BOND WEST IV
by Russell S. russ1961@sbcglobal.net
(M/M) graphic sexual depictions. That's why you're here, right?
Part 4 of a series about a young man, Bond West, making a living as a rent boy.
Bond West IV
As he pulled along the curb and parked, Bond noted the house and neighborhood. Well maintained, multi-story homes heavy with stone and brick, surrounded by lush landscaping, lined both sides of the street.
"This guy's got the money," he thought to himself. Three cars set lined up in the driveway of the house he approached, but the abundance didn't set off any alarms. It might have under different circumstances, but the people in this part of town spent almost as much money on cars as they did on houses.
Bond walked across the lawn toward the front door. Half a face flashed at the edge of a window before the curtain quickly closed. The customer's voice over the phone an hour earlier had sounded nervous, speaking quickly. It was a young man's voice, college-age maybe, who gave his name as John and said he'd got Bond's number from a friend, but didn't give the friend's name. He didn't seem willing to divulge much over the phone so Bond didn't push it. The week had been slow so the cash would be welcome.
The door was cracked open an inch or two as Bond took the final steps, assuming his client was who he'd seen at the window, waiting apprehensively. He'd met nervous guys before, typical behavior for one who has either never paid for sex or never had sex with a male, or both. It was something else this time.
The door didn't open as expected, so Bond prepared to knock. As his closed hand raised, the door swung back with a fast jerk, smacking hard into something behind it, followed by a ceramic crash on the marble floor. At the same time a figure from inside bolted toward Bond, fists clenched. The sounds and action surprised Bond and he reflexively jumped back, but not fast or far enough to avoid the fist of a young man as it swung out and connected with his face.
"Fucking faggot!"
Staggering backward, Bond stumbled at the edge of the concrete, falling into the thick grass. Multiple loud voices came from the doorway as a second person advanced, but instead of attacking he pulled the first person back inside.
"Goddamn it, Donnie!" the second boy yelled. "You were supposed to wait until he was inside!"
"Shit!" came a third voice near the broken vase.
Regaining his awareness, Bond found his footing and continued backing toward his car. He could hear the three still condemning each other over the failed operation. All of them sounded like high school or college aged boys. The first one appeared at the door again, still held by the second. No doubt he would have furthered the attack if it hadn't been for the others.
"Fucking stop it!" said the second, holding tightly to the first. "Not in the front yard, somebody will see us!"
The first boy yelled again, louder to make sure Bond heard him across the distance from the door to the curb. "Goddamn fucking queer!"
Feeling safe at his car, the door unlocked and open, Bond answered back, flipping him off in the process. "Queer bait!"
The label and gesture further enraged the attacker as he struggled with his friends. "Let me go!" The boys fell to the floor as they turned their hate toward each other.
Bond slipped into his car and quickly pulled away, uncaring about the outcome at the house. He figured the three would keep arguing, blaming each other for their misery. Sadly enough, one of them is probably gay, he thought.
He drove about half a mile and stopped in the parking lot of a convenience store. Pulling down the visor, he flipped open the mirror and examined his face. A bruise was spreading along his cheek bone and it hurt like hell, but otherwise he was unruffled. Narcissistically, he noticed his hair was still in place, making him feel strangely relieved. The past few minutes looped endlessly through his head as he came to terms with being bashed. He told himself he'd have to be more careful, considering maybe it was his fault, not paying attention to the situation, not asking more questions. All the clues he'd seen and heard ahead of time were instantly vivid and clear. The parked cars; obviously more than one person at the house. The nervous voice on the phone refusing to answer any questions. The secretive behavior of the person at the window and the partially open door. Each thing had seemed totally normal at the time. How could he have known?
"It wasn't my fault," Bond reassured himself.
He was back home in fifteen minutes, glad his roommate, Brent, was gone for the rest of the day. He'd have to come up with an explanation later, but for now it was quiet. Bond checked himself out again in the bathroom mirror, appraising how bad the upper left quarter of his face looked. The attacker - one of them had called him Donnie, Bond remembered - had landed a solid punch. At least he hadn't caught him square in the nose or jaw and broken anything.
Considering the day wasted, Bond undressed, walked to the kitchen for some aspirin and water, then back to his bedroom. He'd been up late the night before cruising websites and checking email for possible clients. Needed sleep took over in a few minutes.
The sound of the apartment door closing woke Bond up and he realized it was dark. The clock said 8:30; he'd been asleep for five hours. Maybe if he stayed quiet Brent would steer clear, thinking he was asleep after a busy afternoon. Unfortunately, Bond's bladder ruled that out. He had no choice but to leave his room. He decided to make it quick, the bathroom was just down the hall across from Brent's room. His face was hurting, too, and he needed more aspirin. He moved from the bed and pulled on a pair of boxer briefs.
Brent was in the kitchen rummaging for food when he heard the opening of Bond's door.
"Hey, bud," Brent called out.
Bond tried to play it cool, still working on an explanation for the black eye. "Hey," he answered.
Bond shut the bathroom door behind him, then flipped on the light. What he saw in the bright glare of the mirror scared him.
"Jesus christ," he muttered, touching his face tenderly. The slight brush of his fingers seemed to burn the skin under the bruise. An inch wide band of black ran from the corner of his eye around to his temple, then widened further across his cheek bone, fading out to various shades of purple and red along the edges. The whole area was puffy, his lower eyelid swollen the most.
He opened and closed his mouth as wide as he could, flexing his jaw side to side. It hurt around his eye, but not sharply, so he still believed nothing was broken. Just horribly bruised.
He made use of the toilet, flushed, turned off the light, and listened at the door before he opened it. He didn't hear any movement or see any light coming from the hall, so maybe Brent had already crashed. It didn't really matter, he couldn't stay where he was.
As Bond opened the bathroom door and turned up the hall, Brent spoke from the bedroom behind him.
"Finally, dude," Brent teased. "I gotta go."
Bond didn't respond, walking steadily toward the kitchen. He could get more aspirin, even the whole bottle, and some water to take to his room before Brent appeared, if he was lucky.
He fumbled in the dark for the aspirin and had a big glass of water in hand when the bathroom door opened.
"Damn it," Bond whispered.
Bond's hesitation to move gave Brent just enough time to get down the hall before Bond could get past him. He thought he'd make it as long as...
"What are you doing in the dark?" quizzed Brent.
Bond felt his heart jump. "Don't turn on the...!"
Brent flipped the switch.
"...light."
Both of them blinked as their eyes grew accustomed to the sudden brightness. Nothing registered at first, a few seconds passed before Brent realized what he was looking at.
"Holy fuck, what happened to you!?"
Bond turned away.
Brent continued his brisk inquisition. "Are you ok?"
"Was it an accident?"
"Is your car ok?"
"Tell me what happened."
Bond pushed past his roommate, but Brent followed down the hall and into the bedroom.
"Are you going to tell me?" Brent asked earnestly, sensing how nervous his friend was.
Sitting on the edge of the bed Bond looked up. "I don't know," he replied, returning his gaze toward the floor. It was the perfect opportunity for a cover story, but something inside him wouldn't let Bond lie to Brent this time. He'd lied enough already about a fake job with a home health care company, lied about where he was at odd hours of the day and night, lied about selling his ass.
"I got hit by a guy," Bond opened up. "It could have been worse, another guy stopped him. He only hit me once."
"Damn, dude," Brent moaned. "It looks like he took a hammer to you."
"It's not that bad. Nothing is broken."
Suddenly Brent's tone changed. "Do you know this guy?" he asked angrily. "Did you talk to the police? Did they do anything?"
"I didn't call the police."
"Why not?"
"I can't," Bond explained weakly.
"Why not!?" Brent asked again, more agitated.
"You don't have to yell at me."
Brent tried to calm down. "I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at who did this to you. They need to get fucked up."
Bond was quiet, looking at Brent again. Like Bond, Brent wore only boxer briefs. Through the pain Bond registered the attraction he'd always had for Brent. The current emotional state between them heightened his awareness, causing his cock to involuntarily swell slightly. Under the circumstances it felt weird. Pain and sex didn't mesh in Bond's mind.
Brent sat down next to Bond, their bare legs touching, his friend's bruised face only inches away. This close it looked even worse than before.
"So, um...why can't you tell the cops?" Brent asked.
Bond pondered the consequences and decided it wasn't worth lying about any longer.
"You really want to know?"
Brent crawled up the bed, propped a pillow behind his head, and leaned against the headboard.
"I'm listening."
An hour later the whole story was out. Brent knew it all now, and somehow Bond felt relieved. Stress drifted away as the tale unfolded. Brent occasionally asked questions and laughed at some of Bond's descriptions of clients. The more Bond explained, the more Brent understood, putting together pieces of Bond's life that had never quite made sense.
As they conversed the casual contact became more pronounced, leading to where they were now on the bed. Bond lay on his back with Brent pressed close beside him, leaning on one elbow. Brent's other arm draped across Bond's waist, his fingers gliding slowly over the smooth skin of Bond's side and stomach. Frequently, Brent caught himself looking into Bond's eyes, but particularly at the one bruised so badly. It hurt to see it, but he couldn't look away, either. They had never spent this much time together in so close a manner.
Bond's depictions of his encounters had another effect on Brent, whose cock had grown long and hard. Bond glanced down as he felt Brent's cock rub his leg.
"What's that all about?" he asked with a smile.
"Oh, uh," Brent answered shyly, turning onto his stomach. "Sorry, I've been kind of horny all day, and your stories aren't helping."
Bond snickered. "I know what you mean. All that effort today and I didn't get to cum."
"Or get paid," Brent teased, grinning.
"Fuck, don't remind me." Bond raised his hand to cover a yawn.
"I'll leave you alone, looks like you're sleepy again," Brent offered. He was off the end of the bed before Bond could stop him.
Conflicted ideas roamed Bond's thoughts. Did he want Brent to go or to stay? If he stayed what would happen?
Brent turned at the door and looked back. "If you need anything let me know, ok?"
"Ok," Bond agreed, watching his bedroom door close behind his roommate.
Standing, Bond pulled off his boxer briefs and turned off the light. Returning to the bed, he lay in the dark with his eyes open, looking around his room and taking inventory of his life. He wasn't sure if he could keep doing it; meeting men for sex in exchange for dollars. Absent mindedly, his hand reached for his dick, tugging on it a time or two then lifting his balls up and away from his crotch, adjusting himself. Five minutes later he was asleep again.
In his own room a few feet away, Brent didn't sleep. His cock was still hard. A wet spot appeared in his boxer briefs just before he yanked them down his legs. Using his thumb, he wiped the remaining precum from the head of his cock, brought it to his mouth and licked it off, then squeezed his cock again for another drop. He sprawled out on the bed, flat on his back in the dark, with his penis refusing to do anything except stare at him like a single small eye in the dark. Tracing the length with his fingers he again felt a wet drop form at the tip. Just as before, he brought it to his waiting tongue.
"Fuck," Brent said to himself, frustrated.
There was too much to sort out. Am I just that horny, or is it something else, he wondered. An image of Bond on the bed during their talk flashed in Brent's mind. The electric feel of his fingertips gliding over Bond's skin replayed itself, the remembered sensations causing his cock to throb.
Brent turned his head and looked at the clock beside the bed, the red glow of 11:00 shining back at him. A fitful hour had almost passed. A yelp from the other bedroom reached his ears.
Brent left his room, concerned over Bond's discomfort. Standing at Bond's door he knocked lightly. No answer. Again, a light knock.
"Yeah?" came softly from the other side.
Brent opened the door and looked in. "You ok, buddy?"
Bond was sitting on the side of the bed holding his hand to his face, obviously hurting. "I think so," he answered. "I rolled over in my sleep and mashed my eye into the pillow."
Stepping to the bed Brent squatted down to look into Bond's eyes. "Let me see," he instructed, reaching upwards.
Bond jerked back. "Don't touch it!"
"I won't," Brent reassured. "Just move your hand away."
As Bond lowered his hand Brent took it in his, holding it firmly. With his other hand he turned on the small night stand lamp.
"Turn towards the light."
Bond complied and Brent looked him over, noting not just the large bruise again, but also the fact Bond was as naked as he was.
"Well," Brent assessed, "it doesn't look any worse."
Bond's head turned back to face his friend. "Thanks for worrying about me."
Brent squeezed Bond's hand tighter. "Hey, anytime."
Letting go, Brent stood, his puffy dick eye-level to Bond. His cock had drooped considerably from earlier, but hung out over his balls several inches.
"Like I said, if you need anything," he added as he moved to leave the room, reaching for the door to pull it closed.
"Brent, wait."
Brent froze in place and looked back.
"Do you want to, um," Bond started. "Uh...stay here with me?"
Both of them sensed the answer, but wanted the other to say it first. This emotional territory was new between them, unexplored and a little anxious.
"Please?" added Bond.
Brent opened up a little more. "Yeah, I'd like that."
Bond moved to the far side of the bed against the wall. Brent walked back to the bed and slowly positioned himself next to Bond.
"Get the light?" Bond suggested.
Brent extended his arm toward the fixture, returning the room to darkness.
Positioned on his back, Brent felt Bond's warmth at his bare shoulder, down his side, clear to his foot. His cock immediately hardened. Bond began to shift and roll, turning on his side towards Brent. A leg draped over one of Brent's, their bodies intertwining, Bond's arm across Brent's muscular chest. Suddenly, fingers grazed a nipple which forced a low moan from Brent.
Bond repeated the gesture, eliciting more sounds.
"You feel really good," whispered Bond. Bond's cock was joining Brent's at full mast, teasingly pressed against Brent's hip.
Brent reached under to bring his arm up around Bond's back, playfully running it through the hair on the back of Bond's head.
"So do you," Brent agreed. "Wow, your cock is really warm."
"I bet yours is, too," said Bond. His hand drifted downward, stopping only after he had a soft grip on Brent's erection.
"I'd forgot how nice your cock is," Bond said, stroking it. "Oh, and it's wet."
"Remember, I said I was horny," Brent reminded him. "And so are you."
"Fucking right I am. I haven't cum in a week."
"A week!?"
"I never jack off any more, I never know when I might get a call."
"Oh. But it's been a week?"
"Yeah."
"No way I could go a whole week. I get too horny."
Bond moved his hand to Brent's shaved balls, rolling them around.
"When was the last time these big boys had a workout," he inquired.
"Yesterday, the gym locker room showers. I let a guy watch me jack off."
"Hot."
As Brent became more worked up he turned onto his side toward Bond, their faces very close. Even in the low light he could make out the discoloration around Bond's eye. He wanted to be even closer.
His breathing shallow, Brent asked nervously, "Can I kiss you? I promise I'll be careful."
Bond answered by closing the distance between their mouths, pressing their lips together very softly at first, testing his tolerance for any potential pain. He pressed harder, the pleasure outweighing the pain near his cheek bone. He darted his tongue in between Brent's lips indicating he wanted more. Brent's tongue joined in, flicking it's way across Bond's and grazing his teeth. Both of them moaned into each other's mouth.
"Kissing only makes me more horny," Bond admitted during a short break.
"It makes me want to fuck you," blurted Brent, his hand firmly planted on Bond's ass, kneading the bubble of muscle. "Shit. I'm sorry. That was going too far."
Bond pulled back to look into Brent's face.
"Why would fucking be going too far?" Bond asked rhetorically. "We've known each other and lived together for almost two years. We like each other. At least, I know I like you. I always have. I've always thought you were hot."
Concealed by the darkness, Brent blushed at Bond's confession.
"I think you're hot, too. I, uh, kind of think about you sometimes when I jack off," said Brent.
"Mmmm..." moaned Bond, pressing his body firmly against Brent, their cocks side to side, wrestling for space between them. "Like in the shower sometimes?"
"Sorry, I must be too loud."
Bond laughed slightly. "No, you're not. I kind of like to listen."
It was Brent's turn to laugh. "Now you're being kinky."
The boys continued their sex play, interspersed with small talk about likes and dislikes. Bond's cock was now adding lube to the mix along with Brent's steady stream. The continual grinding had a strong effect on Bond, but Brent hadn't attempted any advances.
Bond took the initiative and suddenly rolled over, turning his back to Brent and pressing his ass to Brent's cock. The heat, precum, and sweat soon had the crack of Bond's ass nice and slick.
Brent's steel hard cock moved up and down the length of Bond's crevice, continually replenishing the natural lube.
"Fuck, I can't stand it!" Brent announced as the head of his cock made direct contact with Bond's puckered opening.
"Then do it," whispered Bond, pushing himself against his roommate.
Brent wanted nothing more than to shove inside, but stopped short. "Where..." he began to ask.
"In the top drawer," answered Bond, knowing what was needed.
Brent rolled over just enough to reach the drawer, open it, and pull out a condom and bottle of lube. As quickly as he could Brent opened the package, rolled the rubber down his cock, and covered the whole thing with a coating of lubrication. Next, he used his slick fingers to probe Bond's hole, forcing Bond to moan in response.
"Yeah," panted Bond as he felt the length of Brent's middle finger coat the inside of his ass. "Fuck me."
Both of them on their sides, Brent pressed down on his cock, lining it up to Bond's waiting ass. Finding the entrance, he began to push. Bond helped things along by pushing back. The combined pressure quickly forced the head of Brent's cock into the warm confines, causing both boys to sound out.
"Fuck, yeah!"
"Keep going, give it to me!"
Slowly, Brent worked his cock back and forth, each stroke forging a little deeper as the lube was distributed. He soon bottomed out, his balls pressed tightly to Bond's ass. His nose and lips grazed the back of Bond's neck, his hot breath warming the skin. As his arm went around Bond's chest Brent found the small, hard points of Bond's nipples, flicking and pinching them with his fingers, alternating from one to the other.
Bond's breathing was low. "Oh...uh...uh..." he repeated in time with Brent's thrusts, each one growing in intensity.
Signaling with his hand on Brent's hip, Bond slowed the pace until the thrusting stopped completely.
"On my back," he instructed, pulling away, Brent's cock sliding out. Seconds later, with Bond on his back and his knees pulled up against his chest, Brent moved into position and again planted himself inside his roommate.
Staring down into the face of his friend, details all but blurred out in what little light glowed from the clock, Brent swiftly found his rhythm again.
"I can't believe I'm fucking you," confessed Brent. "I wanted to for so long."
"Hell, yes, you're fucking me," Bond confirmed, his body jiggling on the bed as Brent pounded steadily. "God almighty, you're fucking me!" His hand toyed with his own hard cock, knowing if he started stroking he'd blow his load.
Brent's movements grew more urgent, his body straining. "No! No! Fuck it, I'm gonna cum! I can't stop!"
"CUM IN ME!," screamed Bond as he grabbed his cock and began to stroke furiously. Instantly Bond's ass clamped tight with the onset of his orgasm, forcing Brent to shove in hard and deep to overcome the pressure.
Brent joined him as the first full, thick, hot wad of jizz fired from his cock, lodging sloppily into the tip of latex. "FUCK...OH FUCK...OH FUCK!" he repeated loudly as each succeeding blast left his cock.
Bond's first volley hit with a gooey splat under his chin, the second in the center of his chest, while several more with diminishing force landed on his stomach and, finally, ran down his grasping fingers.
Brent was out of breath, and out of cum, still fully inserted deep into Bond's butt. The pulsing throb of his cock resonated through Bond's lower body as he remained in place, taking deep breaths. Looking down he saw the glistening spots along the length of Bond's torso. Leaning forward, Brent kissed Bond tenderly, lingering for several seconds, feeling the wetness of Bond's cum smear between them.
Pushing himself back up, Brent began to pull out slowly. "I'm sorry."
Bond raised his head and looked at Brent, wondering what he meant. "Sorry? For what? What's wrong?" he asked.
"I didn't mean to cum so fast," Brent answered, the embarrassment evident in his voice. "Sorry."
Bond flopped his head back against the pillow, laughing. "What the fuck?"
Brent stood up at the side of the bed and pulled off the condom, now heavy with sperm. "Don't laugh. It wasn't that bad."
"Are you kidding?" Bond questioned. "It was fucking great!"
Now standing next to Brent, Bond wrapped his arms around his roommate and kissed his cheek.
"So, maybe it didn't last a long time," Bond explained, "but it was hot and intense, and exactly what we needed. It doesn't have to be a marathon."
"Well, yeah," Brent agreed.
"You'll last a lot longer next time," added Bond with a smile. "Shower?"
"Um, yeah, sure," said Brent as Bond led the way to the bathroom. His eyes followed the rounded ass of the boy he'd just fucked, his cock twitching and swelling.
"How soon is next time?" Brent asked, grinning in the dark.
THE END
Possibly more parts to come. If you liked it, let me know. russ1961@sbcglobal.net